


it kept me up all night

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Break Up AU, F/M, one thing led to another and now I'm laying in a puddle of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: Clarke is probably one of the worst coffee makers in the world, but her ex is one of the best. And caffeine is her only motivation to show up on his door step at four in the morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY IVE BEEN AWOL SCHOOL IS KICKING MY FUCKING ASS!!!!!! ANYWAYS ENJOY THE ANGST BECAUSE IM A DRAMATIC ASS HOLE!!!! TRY NOT TO GAG TOO MUCH!!!!

"This tastes like shit." She dumps the grainy coffee down the sink and slumps against the counter. She hasn't had a decent coffee in weeks.   
"Have you never learned to make coffee?" Raven squints at her.   
"I've never needed to."  
Raven rolls her eyes. "Because Bellamy always made—"  
"Raven! Can we not—?" Clarke waves her hands in a 'you know' gesture.   
She immediately sobers . "Oh, right. I'm sorry. I forget that you two, um, yeah."   
Clarke nods. Yeah."  
"Let's go to the café down the street, they serve a decent coffee."   
"Ok."

The coffee wasn't any less shitty there than what Clarke had made, as much as she hates to admit it, Bellamy knew how to make it just right. Not too bitter and not too mild. 

"It's just coffee." Niylah says over lunch the next day. And Clarke nods even though she was wrong. She misses him, like you miss home or your moms hugs. She misses his t-shirts that she would wear to bed and she misses waking up to his head on her chest. She misses feeling loved, coffee was just another thing that wasn't the same without him. 

She calls Wells, because he's really the only functioning human that she knows that also won't make fun of her. She knows it's ridiculous, that not having good coffee is bugging her this deeply. But it's not like she can change how her brain chooses to deal with break ups.   
"Can you make me a coffee?"  
He sighs. "We live on different sides of the country." A beat. "Would you like it air dropped or faxed?"  
She lets out a surprised laugh. "I really hope those aren't my only two options."   
"Sorry, that's it. Or no coffee for you."  
She sighs dramatically. "The times we live in."  
"Its like you can't make coffee yourself or something."  
"Yeah, silly me." She smiles half heartedly even though he can't see her. He still knows somethings up though, because he's Wells.   
"How are you holding up?" He asks, soft.   
"Um, fine."  
"Clarke."  
"Seriously. It's just another break up to add to the resume." She fiddles with a pen laying on the counter, not bothering to laugh at her own joke.   
"If you ever need to talk—"  
"You'll be there, I know. Thanks."  
"Anytime."  
She presses end and turns to face the living room, which desperately needed to be vacuumed, there was still glass on the floor from—

"Clarke, just—just, hold on a second." Bellamy grabbed her wrist, just hard enough to make her stop. She pointedly didn't make eye contact, she didn't want him to see her cry.   
He stood in front of her and cupped her cheek, she took a step back and his hand fell. Her heart ached when a look of hurt passed over his features. "What's going on?"   
"I can't—" she took a deep breath. "—I can't do this anymore."   
His brow furrowed. "Do what? This? Be with me? Love me?" His voice cracked on the last phrase and a sob wracked her body.   
"Bellamy, I—"  
"What happened? What made you change your mind?"   
Her jaw muscle fluttered. "Maybe we rushed into this."  
His laugh didn't have any humor. "Rushed? Are you kidding? We've been friends for nearly four years!"  
"Maybe we should have stayed friends!" She shouted, chest heaving.   
Bellamy looked as if he'd been slapped across the face.   
"If that's what you want, fine. I won't inconvenience you with my feelings any longer." He hastily wiped the tear from his cheek and stalked towards the door.   
"Bellamy." She pleaded, but he was already gone, slamming the door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall and shattered. 

She shudders at the thought of the memory, and immediately goes to grab the vacuum. She didn't need reminders of one of the worst days of her life. 

"Fuck!" She seethes, glowering at the paper cut. She angrily rips a napkin from the dispenser and dabs.   
"Jesus, it looks like you're out for blood." Roan says, topping off her water.   
She downs it and wipes her mouth. "I fucking hate paper cuts."  
"Yeah, nasty little buggers they are." He begins to wipe down the counter and she hurriedly moves her sketch book out of the way.   
"Who's that you're drawing?" He asks, peering at the paper where a constellation of freckles and messy black hair are splattered.   
"Just—someone I used to know."  
He nods. "Ah, he must be why you're so angry huh?" He chuckles as her jaw drops slightly.   
"I hate how perceptive you are." She throws a pencil at his head, which he easily dodges.   
"You know, it could be easier to list the things you don't hate. Might take less time." He ducks into the kitchen before she can consider chucking her whole sketch pad at his face. 

She jerks up as her head slams against the table for the third time that night. She has six hours before class and she needs to get this assignment finished before then. But she can barely stay awake, let alone hold a pencil and actually produce something worth handing in.   
She drums her fingers on the table, brain working to come up with a solution. She could go to sleep for a few hours, wake up feeling slightly less like a zombie or—  
It was a terrible idea, it wasn't even likely that he was awake. She texted him anyway, her hope winning out over her fear. 

me: are you up?

She hits send before her nerve gives way and waits impatiently for a reply. After ten minutes, she assumes he's asleep or ignoring her, which she understands. But just as she's about to give up, her phone buzzes. She nearly breaks an arm trying to open the goddamn thing. 

bellamy: Yeah.

She worries her lip, she's already this far. 

me: can I come over  
bellamy: Are you ok?  
me: yeah, of course  
me: can't sleep

He takes a little longer to answer this time, and she's worried he's fallen asleep when—

bellamy: The doors unlocked so just come in whenever. 

She throws on her leather jacket and converse and nearly trips down the stairs. She prays to whoever's listening that her car starts, and breathes a sigh of relief when it roars to life.   
Anxiety bubbles in her stomach thinking about what she'll say, she hasn't seen or spoken to him in a month. They've both respectively been avoiding the get togethers with their friends. It was simply too much to see each other so soon, her fingers tighten on the steering wheel as she turns onto his street.   
He had been living in an apartment with his sister, but she moved in with Lincoln a few months ago. Clarke had been working up the nerve to asking him to move in with her, until, you know. 

She doesn't bother knocking, instead opts for nudging the door open with her foot, since her arms are laden with art supplies. She dumps them onto the table and slips out of her jacket.   
"Um, Bellamy?" She calls softly.   
The floor creaks behind her and she turns around, then instantly flushes.   
He's only wearing grey sweats that hang low on his hips, even though he had plenty of time to change before she got there. She's seen more than this, obviously, but it's different now. And weird.   
"Do you make a habit of calling all your exes at such ungodly hours? Or am I just special?" He narrows his eyes in a way that makes her want to shrink.   
Somethings—off, she knew things weren't going to be the same, she'd be an idiot to think they could just go back to being friends. But something wasn't right.   
"You're the only ex of mine that makes the best coffee. That's actually why I'm here."  
His face is confused. "You need coffee at four am?"  
She shrugs. "I need to stay up and finish this assignment, and caffeine is the best way to do so."  
"I'll make a pot." He pushes away from the table and ducks into the kitchen. She follows him.   
Normally she would have made small talk, asked him about his classes, how Octavia was doing, basically anything to fill up the awkward silence. But she doesn't think they've made it to the point of small talk yet.   
She notices the differences about him, his hair is long, almost covering his eyes, that uses to drive him crazy. And his apartment doesn't feel like him, there aren't books laying on every available surface, or a documentary up on the tv. He even took the map down that had hung above his kitchen table for as long as she could remember. It used to look like what she suspected he looked like on the inside, perfect chaos. 

Now it felt empty. 

She snaps out of her thoughts as he reaches above her to grab mugs—did he grow like, two feet or something—and she does her best to look nonchalant. Even as her heart pounds with the proximity.   
"Here." His voice is gruff as he shoves the mug into her hand.   
"Thanks." She takes a look at the mug, it's her favourite. The one with the 'I prefer my puns intended' saying and flower doodles splattered here and there.   
"I'm surprised you didn't throw this out." She says honestly.   
He glances up and flushes slightly as he notices what he gave her. "Me too."  
They lull back into silence, and Clarke finds that she doesn't mind it so much. Even though Bellamy is throwing off passive aggressiveness in waves, she's choosing to ignore it.   
After a few moments, he cracks his neck and pushes off the counter, beginning to wash his mug.   
When he finishes he turns to her, a bored expression etched into his features. "You can work here if you want. Text me when you go home." He's already closing his bedroom door by the time her brain gets in tune with her mouth. He was being terribly aloof.   
And everything finally clicks. The angry vibes, the gruffness, him trying to intimidate her. He was acting exactly how he acted when they first met, he was acting how he was around new people. It was as if he didn't even know her anymore. 

She leaves at eight, writing him a note rather than shooting him a text. She ended up starting her whole piece from scratch. It was based on an emotion, and she just wasn't feeling the bubbly, fun vibe any longer. Her painting now had different shades of blue and other cold colours, it was sad. And also angry. Basically her only two emotions nowadays. 

"After you and Bellamy slept together, was he different?" Clarke slides into the booth across from Raven, who smiles.   
"Hi Raven, how are you today? Well hello there Clarke! I'm doing just dandy. You know my ear kind of hurts because you've been talking it off on the phone all week but—"  
She throws a napkin at her. "Jesus, stop being so dramatic."  
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because I'm the dramatic one here."  
Clarke gives her a kick under the table. "Could you please answer my question?"  
Raven sighs, as if it's a great burden. "What do you mean, different?"  
She worries her lip. "Like, I don't know! Like the guy he is before he warms up to you."  
"Oh, like all broody and moody? Tries to intimidate you?" Raven slurps her drink.   
"Yes!" Clarke exclaims.   
"No. We were pretty chill. He actually stared at my boobs less."  
She slumps against the seat, defeated.   
Raven waves her fork at her. "Wait, why are you asking this? I thought you and Bellamy—"  
"I saw him last night, and he was just so....cold? I guess?"  
"You're just used to him being a big love sick puppy around you. It's disgusting. Or it was, at least."  
"But even before we dated, he wasn't like that." She frowns.   
Raven sets down her fork. "Clarke. Babe. What I'm about to say might sting a little ok? But I'm not saying it to be an ass."  
She snorts. "That's a first."  
She ignores her. "Bellamy—he takes a while to warm up to people, as you know, but once you have him, you have him for life. He's just, learning to trust you again."   
"So he doesn't trust me right now? Why?" She couldn't imagine a time where her and Bellamy weren't best friends, it's just, impossible.   
"You broke his heart, Griffin."  
"Hey, he's the one who walked out on me." She stabs a piece of lettuce.   
"But he's not the one who didn't chase after you. You've been in love with each other for years, and just as you start to get your shit together, you just create more drama. Honestly, it's like I'm reading a Jane Austin novel."  
She scoffs. "We aren't that bad."  
"Yes, yes you are honey."  
"Ok, well what do you suggest I do about it?"   
"Tell him that he's still the wind beneath your wings or something. I'm always the one who gets the proposals, I don't know how the other side lives." She waves her hand absently and shovels more food into her mouth.   
"Lucky you."

She doesn't see Bellamy again for a few weeks, she doesn't want to seem eager or anything. But one day she just so happens to be in his neighborhood, so she heads up to his floor.   
His hallway is totally covered with boxes, she figures someone must be moving. When she opens his door, she discovers the someone is apparently Bellamy.   
"Are you moving?" She says, taking extra care to not touch any of the box towers that are just swaying precariously.   
He startles at her voice and jumps, sending a pile of books flying.   
"Sorry."  
He shakes his head. "It's good. Um, yeah, I am. To Indiana."  
Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. "To where now?"  
"Indiana, the sunshine state. Or something equally as cheesy."  
He shrugs, moving past her to drop another box in the hall.   
"What about Octavia?"   
"She's living with Lincoln, who adores her, she has a good job. She can take care of herself."  
Her eyebrows definitely disappear into her hairline. "Are you a clone? An alien? Because you're sure as hell not Bellamy." She gives his arm a little pinch, to check if he's real.   
"Fuck outta here." He laughs.   
It's jarring, to hear it after all this time, she'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. Which is ridiculous, how could she ever forget such a beautiful sound.   
God, Raven was right, she was a fucking romance novel. Complete with the totally nauseating metaphors.   
"Do you need help packing?" Yes. Let's help him move faster. Great plan, Clarke.   
"Nah, it's ok. Just a few more boxes and then the moving guys do the rest."  
"When do you leave?"  
"Tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow!?" She blurts. This was all happening way too fast, girls in romance novels at least had a few days to write a shitty love letter. Clarke wouldn't even have time to find a goddamn pen.   
He chuckles. "Yeah, the job starts on wednesday. I'm going to be teaching high school."  
She almost objects, because there are plenty of perfectly good high schools that don't require you to move across the state.   
But he seems so—happy. "That's really great. You'll be great at that."   
"Yeah?"   
She touches his arm. "Yeah."  
They stare for a moment, and then he tugs her into him and tucks her head under his chin. She can feel his heartbeat, and it's beating so fast she's mildly concerned he's going to pass out.   
"I'm going to miss you." She mumbles into his shirt, half hoping he won't be able to hear her. His grip tightens.   
"I'm going to miss you too."

She doesn't know how long they stay like that, but she knows it wasn't long enough. 

She wakes up to someone obnoxiously pounding on her door, which can't really be blamed on them, she quite literally sleeps like the dead.   
She opens the door to a disheveled Bellamy, looking way too good in just a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. He's clearly taking advantage of her sleepy disoriented brain.   
"Bell? Aren't you leaving—"  
"Is anyone else here?" He interrupts, wiping his hands on his jeans.   
She makes a face. "No? Why would anyone else be—"  
"Good."  
He pushes past her and closes the door, leaning against it, breath heavy.   
"I can't sleep in my own bed anymore. That night you texted me? Asking if you could come over? I had been sleeping on the couch and I couldn't go back to sleep until you left and I could go back to the couch." He's staring at a point past her head, she seriously does not understand why he's telling her this. "I can't sleep in my own bed anymore because it's too big, it's too empty and it doesn't smell like you. And I can't read any of my favourite books because they all remind me of you and every time I even think about you my heart aches. And I thought I'd get over it eventually and that's why I'm moving because there's really nothing keeping me here but I—" his breath catches and he gulps down air. He finally looks her in the eye. "—I'd like to be kept here. By you."  
Slowly, she slowly closes the space between them, and slots herself in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.   
"Will you make me coffee?" She whispers.   
His grin is crooked. "Every day."  
She brushes their noses against one another. "I guess I'll keep you then."   
He laughs, then spins them so she's pinned against the wall, and she lets out a surprised gasp.   
"I love you." He says, and repeats it with every kiss he presses against her neck.   
After a moment, she gently holds his face between her hands.   
"Don't ever walk out on me again, ok?"  
He touches their foreheads together. "Don't ever let me."  
She grasps for one of his hands and tangles their fingers together.   
"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, I've never actually read a jane austin novel but im pretty sure there has to be drama and nauseating romance. i think I have my bases covered.


End file.
